Fallout New Vegas: Courier's Road
by The Pyro Jawsome
Summary: A novelization of Fallout New Vegas, attempting to disguise itself as a Let's Play. Complete with more sarcastic Courier. On hiatus
1. Part 1: The Kick

**Part 1: The Kick**

 _War. War never changes._

 _When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, forming tribes._

 _As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and rule of law. As the Republic grew, so did it's needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry, merciless, mercilessly dry expanse of the Mojave Desert. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and as great wall spanning the Colorado River._

 _The NCR mobilized its' army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition._ _But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged from the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion._

 _Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam - just barely - against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat. Across the river, it gathers strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat._

 _Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated Tribals_ _and police robots._

 _I am a courier, hired by the Mojave Express, to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn…for the worse._

As I gradually regained consciousness, I remember thinking 'Ain't this a kick in the head?' And I suppose it was, thinking back. Tied up on a random hill, about the middle of nowhere, when I should have been walking into New Vegas Strip, delivering a package to a guy named House. Seriously. All I could see in front of me was this asshat in a checked? Plaid? Whatever the fuck kinda suit it was, it was gaudy as shit. I remember thinking 'This fuck got the drop on me? Seriously?' Yep. Guy was with two gang members, Great Khans, I think. One of them was digging a hole.

"You got what you were after, so pay up." One of em said to Suit Guy.

"You're crying in the rain, pally." Suit Guy said right back. I began to fight my restraints, and they noticed.

"Guess who's waking up over here." Another Khan said, poking me with the shovel. Ass. There were three in front of me.

"Time to cash out then." Suit Guy dropped and stepped out his cigarette.

"Let's get it over with already." One of the Khans said, probably wanting his cut.

"Maybe you Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" Suit Guy sounded like a Pre-War recording, trying to be 'hip' and 'edgy'. He pulled out the package I was carrying, flashed it to me. He better not have touched the rest of my stuff.

"You've made your last delivery kid." He said. I didn't have the strength to retort. I probably would have said something along the lines of distance. Suit Guy put the package back, tossed away something else. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He pulled a pistol, 9mm, from his suit. "From where you're kneeling this must seem like a 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is…. Game was rigged from the start." And with that, he shot me in the head.

 _ **Fallout: New Vegas: Courier's Road**_


	2. Behind the Scenes: Introductions

**Behind the scenes of** _ **Fallout: New Vegas: Courier's Road:**_ **Introductions**

Hello, I'm The Pyro Jawsome, slacker extraordinaire. You may know me from my crossover series, the Project ART stories. And my obvious apathy to actually write them. So, you may be wondering, why delve into Let's Plays, and why Fallout of all things?

Funny you should ask.

Fallout New Vegas is oriented much like its' pre- and successors, Fallout 3 and 4, being an open-world F-TPS RPG. Or something. New Vegas's story depends on your actions, meaning you can be a Courier of the people, or pull a GTA and become the archdemon in human form. However, unique to New Vegas is that your PC, The Courier, does not start out in a Vault-Tec Vault. The Courier is a, well, courier, hired by the Mojave Express to run a top-secret package to a House. We will get into him later.

New Vegas keeps 3's Karma meter, as well as town popularity, with Karma being affected by what you do, and popularity being gained by completing quests a certain way. Quests can be done whenever you choose, until the inevitable Point of No Return. Want to bull rush through the story? By all means. Want to take your time doing all you can for the inhabitants of the Mojave Wasteland? Go nuts. Want to explore and admire a 2010 game on Xbox 360 and PS3 (And PC) that looks like an early Xbox One/PS4 game? Shit, sure. Fair warning, you're taking a roundabout way for the story, and companions are pretty much optional. The sidequests to recruit them can be skipped, should you feel like becoming the Lone Courier. Puns aside, this LP is how I would play through the game, with the added bonus of being entirely in The Courier's perspective.

Whoopee.

As for what Fallout's stats and such look like, that's next part, but, here's a crash course on what makes you S.P.E.C.I.A.L

S: Strength

P: Perception

E: Endurance

C: Charisma

I: Intelligence

A: Agility

L: Luck

Each one of those correlates to how your Courier turns out. Not in appearance, that's different, but in performance. Strength relates to how much crap you can have on you, melee weapon damage, and heavy weapon damage, Perception is rather self-explanatory, but boosts awareness, Lockpicking, and Energy Weapon damage, Endurance boosts health, resistances, and Survival and Unarmed skills (We shall explain later), Charisma nets you higher Speech and Barter stats, Intelligence makes you a nerd with higher Science, Repair, and Medicine stats to match, Agility gives you better Guns and Sneak skills (you can deal more damage with bullet weapons, and can walk quietly better) and more AP in VATS, and Luck, makes you lucky, though is not very worthwhile.

Right now, you're probably confused as shit. What are these skills? What do the acronyms stand for? Why do you assume I've never played a _Fallout_ game before?

Well, Skills are how _good_ you can do something, such as shoot shit, hit shit, talk with shit, and bargain shit, and there are some skill checks that require higher skill point values, AP and VATS are related, with AP being Action Points in Vault-Tec-Assisted-Targeting-System (VTATS doesn't spell anything), and I don't know that you have. Any rate, next update, the Courier wakes up in the town of Goodsprings, and begins their journey across the Mojave.


	3. Part 2: The Turn

**Part 2: The turn**

Looking back, getting shot in the head _hurts_. Seriously, it does. Of course, most don't survive by the bullet miraculously only barely penetrating their skull, and patching the hole it left, therefore only being knocked unconscious by the blow to the head. Lucky me. When I woke up again, a muted gold of sunrise shone through a shuttered window. I was lying on what could loosely be defined as a bed. Rusted medical stuffs were everywhere, probably Pre-War vintage.

"You're awake. How about that." A low husky voice said from my left. I slowly sat up, wincing as I held my head for a second. As I sat up all the way, everything seemed to become fuzzy for a second. "Whoah, easy there, easy." An old man was sitting in a chair besides the bed. "You've been out cold for a couplea days now. Why don't you relax a second. Get yer bearings." He had a southwesterly accent, native probably. "Let's see what the damage is. How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"Ow…. My name?" I spoke. My voice was awful, have to drink water later. "All you need to call me is The Courier, or just Courier."

"Huh. Can't say that's normal, but, that's your name, I guess. And under your circumstances, I won't pry." He said. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rootin' around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place. How'd I do?" He handed me an old Reflectron, still working after all these years. I sorted it out, female, yes, Caucasian, yes, face was like that, yes, my hair was actually aqua.

"Well, I got most of it right anyway, stuff that mattered." Doc said, getting up out of his chair. "No sense keeping you in bed anymore. Let's see if we can get you on your feet." He helped me up, everything went fuzzy again for a second. "Good. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room, over by that Vigor Tester machine there. Take it slow now. It ain't a race." I slowly walked over. "Looking good so far. Go ahead and give the Vigor Tester a try. We'll learn right quick whether you've recovered your facilities." I went ahead and activated it.

It gave me my Strength, 6, first, then another 5 for Perception, a 7 for Endurance as well, a 4 for Charisma, a 7 in Intelligence, another 7 for Agility, and 5 for Luck. No gambling for me, it seems.

"Yep, that's a pretty standard score there. But after what you've been through, I can say that's great news." Doc said. He'd been off to the side while I'd been fiddling with the machine. "Well, we know your vitals are good. But that don't mean nothin if we can't tell what you're thinkin. Take a seat on my couch here and I'll ask ya a few questions." We went into another room, me sitting on the couch, and him in a chair.

"All right. I'm going to say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind." Doc said, than began with "Dog."

"Feed." I said.

"House."

"Shelter."

"Night."

"Silencer."

"Bandit."

"Swiss Cheese."

"Light."

"Dark."

"Mother."

"Caretaker."

"Okay, Now, I got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say." Doc said. "First one; 'Conflict just isn't in my nature.'"

"I agree. If i have to resort to violence, I will, but I'd rather talk it out."

"I ain't given to relying on others for support."

"Agree. I prefer to go alone, but if I have to, I'll work with someone."

"I'm always fixin' to be the center of attention."

"Disagree. I'm a courier, not a magnet."

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

"Disagree."

"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."

"Agree."

"Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see?"

"A broken chain."

"Okay. How about this one?"

"A priceless work of art?"

"Last one."

"A light in the darkness."

"Well, that's all she wrote." Doc said. My eyes burned slightly. "I don't have nothing to compare it to, so maybe you'd better just have a look at the results." He handed me a sheet. Strengths were Science, Sneak, and Energy Weapons, fine.

"Before I turn you loose, I need one more thing from you. I got a form for you to fill out so I can get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality. Ain't like I expect to find you got a family history of gettin shot in the head." He handed me the form, and I checked the 'Traits' boxes of Good Natured and Skilled.

"All right. I guess that about does it." Doc said. "Come with me. I'll see you out." We stood, walking around the furniture into a hallway that lead to the front door.

"Here. These are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in." He said, handing me my Express delivery notes, a 9mm, some ammo, and some Stimpaks. "I hope you don't mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find an next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip. Well, if you're heading out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing after what you been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you. And put this one, so the locals don't pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife's. I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore it after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen."

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc." I said, glad I got my stuff back. All my weapons were still on me, useless since Suit Guy had gotten the drop on me. My armor was also off, since I'd been in New Vegas at the time, and wasn't expecting him to jump me.

"Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for. You should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave. Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore, hear?"

"Hey Doc, thanks. Really, see you around." I said. He'd also given me a Laser Pistol, with some cells, and I turned and walked out the door, ready to face the desert and find that chip.


	4. Part 3: Saddle Up

**Part 3: Saddle Up**

The sunlight blinded me slightly as I walked out of the doctor's, closing the door. I held my left arm, the one with the over glorified screen-on-a-glove, and noticed a flashing light. I flipped through until I came to a Radio tab, with five broadcasts available for listening, Radio New Vegas, and four others that made no sense. One said Sierra Madre, another Happy Trails Caravan, Midnight Showing at Mojave Drive-In? The last, Mysterious Broadcast, was arguably the most confusing. Those four were all irritating, so I flipped it to Radio New Vegas, hear what Mr. New Vegas had to say, listen to some Strip music. I also noticed a Notes, Quests, and Map tabs. Shrugging, I flipped through them, then switched to the middle light, which showed my weapons, apparel, aid, ammo, and other stuff. I was glad that my weapons, which had taken a while to get, were there, and my leather armor was there, my light metal armor, all there. I pulled my Broad Machete, placing it on my belt on the left hip of my Leather armor, and holstered my Weathered 10mm on the right. I flipped to the first light, which was a bunch of status tabs. Flipping to the second light and staying there, I looked up to see a metal box on a wheel roll by. Must be Victor, might as well thank him for not leaving me to die by headshot.

"Howdy Partner! See you're doing a lot better that when I pulled you outta that hole in the ground!" The robot was a Securitron Mk II design, some piece of Old World tech that House guy I was supposed to deliver that package-a fucking poker chip-to, dug up somewhere. Supposed to have an army of those things, how he keep New Vegas like a goddamned fortress. With neon fucking everywhere. Word on the street is if the NCR, New California Republic, lost their hold on the Mojave by House the New Vegas Embassy was fucked three thousand times over. But they've got a common interest as of now-Hoover Dam, the giant hydroelectric power plant out east. Word is whoever wins the upcoming battle there changes the fate of the Mojave, for NCR, Legion, or Vegas's interests. While I just rambled through that, I remember finishing the conversation and leaving for the Prospector Saloon, like the Doc had wanted me to. Passed a general store, not that I could buy much. I had a pittance in caps, and while Pre-War cash was a one-to-one exchange, actual sales and purchases were caps in the Mojave. NCR was printing their own dollars, and the Legion had coins, but everywhere else? Caps, caps, caps. The first people that emerged from the vaults supposedly picked them up and found value, until the NCR began it's money crusade, but the diehard capsters had moved east, into the Mojave. Money that wasn't caps had no real value. I walked onto the porch of the saloon, past some ruined motorbikes, remnants of pre-war civ, past a worn down fella, nodded, and entered the saloon.

I was immediately hit with the smell of booze, homestyle kind of place. I was also hit by barking from a large dog. Normally, dogs like me and have a good time. We have no problems. This one was obviously someone's.

"Cheyenne! Enough." A voice cut through my second ramble of the day, provided by a redhead in leather armor. "Howdy. You must be the new face in Goodsprings. I'm Sunny Smiles."

"Hey. Doc Mitchell said I should come see you." I replied. "Is Smiles really your last name?" Whoops.

"Yeah, it is." She must have noticed it slipped out, because she added, "Someone's asked at some point. Now, let's go out back for target practice." She led me outside to a hill where Cheyenne was already sat, handing me a Varmint Rifle, chambered in 5.56mm.

"Alright, aim at those empty sarsaparilla bottles there on the fence, and shoot at em." I raised the rifle up, noting it's age and disrepair, before squeezing a shot at the row of bottles. I brushed one, but it tipped nonetheless.

"Good. Aim down the sight." Sunny instructed, and I dutifully obeyed, striking a second bottle on the neck. "Now try crouching." Doing so, the third bottle was a square hit to the faded label.

"Alright, you're pretty good with that rifle." Sunny said, looking down at me where I crouched, reloading the rifle. I stood as I worked the bolt.

"Comes with being a courier. Protect the package, your paycheck, and yourself." I responded. I preferred my 10mm, but I'd take the 5.56, if only to not piss Sunny off. Slinging it across my shoulder blade with a strap attached to the stock and barrel, I checked my ammo store in it's own pack pocket.

"Think you can help me with a problem? There've been geckos hanging around our water source, and I need to clear them. You can get some practice in on non-bottle enemies." Sunny offered. Eh, why not. I liked Goodsprings, good small-town vibe.

"Sure." I said, following Sunny as we walked around the Prospector and down the road out of Goodsprings. As we walked, Sunny asked me about where I'd been.

"Hmmmm…. I mostly worked in the New California Republic." I said, rubbing my chin as I called up old memories. "Started heading east around 14, when I got tired of working for the barons. I lived and worked out of the Divide until I hit 20, when I delivered a package from NCR at Navarro and figured I should leave. I wandered until I was at Primm, signed up for delivering a package to the Strip, and got shot in the head." I shook my head. "My past isn't as exciting as it sounds." I shot a glance, noting her expression. Probably had to do with the Divide. I heard something had happened there, and people spoke about it like it was evil when I'd headed to Vegas. I'd never really followed up, I might at Primm, though. We stopped behind a rock near the water source.

"Hear that up on the ridge? Geckos. Nasty little monsters. Doc Mitchell probably deals with bites more than anything." Sunny mentioned, as we started creeping around the rocks. "Let's try and get the drop on them." Both of us crept around the rock, rifles in hand, as we spotted two of the things. Pulling the rifle up to aim down the sight, I squeezed off a shot, hitting one in the neck and downing it in a spray of blood. I swung my rifle over to the other, only to see it keel over, bullets lodged in it's belly.

"Good shooting." I complemented Sunny as we walked over to the well. She wasn't too bad for a local in this backwater town, probably because all the hotshots from the NCR weren't there to ask if I wanted to see their 'gun'.

They never ask more than once. A punch to it definitely helps that. As I mused over that, I picked up a shovel that had been leaning on a pipe. Never know when you'd need it.

"You aren't half bad yourself. There's a few more down the hill. You in?"

"Am I walking off?" I retorted, moving in that direction. I spotted a third gecko, firing a shot into it's skull. Two bullets left.

"Goddamnit!" Me and Sunny exchanged looks. That wasn't us. We quickly jogged to the cliff, where we saw the last two geckos attacking a Goodsprings resident. She was bleeding from multiple bite wounds, attempting to fend them off with a knife. Acting quickly, I aimed at one, Sunny at the other, and we fired at the same time. Two geckos fell over, bullets in the back of their necks. I slid down the cliff, moving over to the girl we'd just saved.

"Hey. You doing alright?"

"Thanks for that. I came down here to draw some water. Here, take what I got." She said as I wrapped her bites. I frowned. Two cans of pure water.

"No. Keep them. You need them more than I do." I said, fishing out my Vault 13 flask. I'd done a job up to Arroyo when I still worked in the NCR, and I'd picked it up on said job. The thing literally never ran out of water, however that worked, meaning I had water for a long time. "Go to Doc Mitchell. He'll patch you up." I sent the girl on her way.

"I swear, they never listen when I say not to go down there…" Sunny said. "Anything else?"

"No, I think I'm good." I said. "Unless there were any cap-making opportunities around here?"

"Hmmm…. Trudy'd be cross if I didn't direct you to talk with her. She likes to talk with everyone who passes through. There is a safe in the schoolhouse none of us can open, not even Easy Pete and dynamite, if you're up for scavenging and you're good with a bobby pin and screwdriver." Sunny handed me three pins and a magazine on lockpicking.

"For the safe right? Thanks. I think I'll see Trudy first." I said. "See you around." I headed off for Goodsprings.

 **The Rant**

 **I finally got back to writing! With Fallout New Vegas, not Project RWBY. Whatever. So, I got Fallout 4 last month and had so much fun, I remembered I had New Vegas. I played New Vegas, and remembered this. Now (with an extra dose of fanfiction reading) I've returned to Courier's Road with plenty of ideas for the future! For Auld Lang Syne! Praise be to Sawyer! Oda never forgets! Peace!**


	5. Part 4: Ghost Town Showdown

**Part 4: Ghost Town Showdown**

I wandered back into Goodsprings about noon, according to my Pip-Boy, and went into the Prospector to talk with Trudy, like Sunny had said. As I walked in, I overheard a conversation between a guy in armor with NCRCF emblazoned on it, and someone, probably Trudy.

"- better hand him over!"

"What are you talking about?" Trudy asked. "Never seen a Ringo around here."

"There will be consequences." Armor guy threatened, then left.

"Watch it, fuckface!" Fucker brushed right up against me as he left, ignoring the wide space to my side.

"What's your problem?" I resisted the urge to whip out my 10mm and bust a cap in his skull. Asshole.

"Who was that dickwad you were talking to?" I asked Trudy.

"Oh, him? That was Joe Cobb. He's a Powder Ganger." Powder Ganger? The fuck's a Powder Ganger? Sound like a weird ass drink.

"So what- or who- did he want?" I muttered, running a finger over my machete blade. It came away with a bit of rust. Shit. I need to clean it.

"He wanted a caravanner, Ringo, who's been hiding here in town." Trudy replied.

"In that gas station over by the doc's house?" I asked. It seemed obvious to me.

"Yep. Go see him if you want to help him. Anything else?" She asked.

"Sunny did want me to talk to you, maybe you can tell me about the guy who shot me. He wearing a gaudy suit."

"Yup. Acted like a big shot the whole time he was here. One of his guys broke my radio by 'accident'." Hmmmm…

"I could look at your radio for you." I offered.

"That would be appreciated, thanks." I wandered over to it behind the bar. I disassembled it, noting the receiver, which seemed to have the brunt of the damage. A quick fix and it started blaring Radio New Vegas in my face.

"I fixed your radio." I called to Trudy.

"I heard it turn on. Here's some payment for a job well done." She handed me 250 caps. Well, better than nothing. I headed out to see about this Ringo guy.

A quick jog across the town and I was at the old gas station. A Sunset Sarsaparilla machine stood there, with a few bottles left in there. I took em, hoping they weren't like Nuka-Cola and slightly irradiated. I hated that. I walked into the building to be met with a 9mm to the face. Warm welcome.

"That's far enough." Ringo said. His grip on the pistol was firm. Little waver. "What do want?"

"Not here to kill you." I responded. He thankfully lowered the 9mm, though he still kept it ready. "Trudy said I could help you out?"

"Hmmm. Maybe you can help me with the Powder Gangers." He mused. "Go ask Sunny for help. We'll work from there." Fine. I let myself out as he started muttering and checking his pistol. I had to walk around Goodsprings a little, but I found Sunny soon enough.

"Oh, hey. You go talk with Trudy yet?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah. Fixed her radio. Actually, I wanna talk about the Ringo situation." I replied, returning her look with a deadpan stare. Really, I'd been gone long enough the sun was starting to set.

"Oh, great. And, I'm in." Wait….

"What?"

"You want help driving those Powder Gangers off, right?" Sunny asked, absently scratching Cheyenne behind her ears. "Well, you could convince Trudy, Chet, and Easy Pete to help. Trudy'd take a silver tongue, or proof you weren't running around like a headless Brahmin. Chet'd take bartering skills, and Easy Pete's protective of his dynamite." Sunny rattled off. Hmmm…. People say I could make a deal with the devil and then rules lawer my way out if I had what I wanted and he didn't. I'm a courier, of course I can barter. And do you really think the 'nade launcher on my back is for decoration?

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem." I may have said that a little dryly, but Sunny understood, laughing at my obvious irritance at her doubts. Wandering toughens a girl up.

I quickly hashed a plan with Trudy, convinced Chet to open the supply room, and bummed some dynamite off Easy Pete, with the promise to return what went un-blown up. Night was falling as I reentered the gas station, finding Ringo polishing his pistol.

"Sunny and the town are in. Let's roll." I said. He nodded, staring to grab some other stuff as I turned to leave. I ran into Sunny on the way out.

"Alright, we're ready. They're coming, fire when you'r ready." She said as we walked down to the main road, in front of the Prospector. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my grenade launcher from the small of my back. I only had 20 40mm grenades. I was sure I had more, but oh well. Vegas, you know? I noticed that Cobb guy coming up the road, some other guys with him. I did notice a theme. Dynamite. Carefully, I leaned out enough from behind the crate I was hiding behind to aim my launcher at the group. When I worked west, they called me 'In Plain Sight', because I could damn near disappear right next to someone, even without a Stealth Boy. On that subject, I'd found one in the safe I'd hacked, not picked open. I prefered a healthy glow to tumblers. The trigger felt like it was weighted under my finger, but they weren't quite in boom range yet. A little more…. Perfect. I smirked as I fired, the low 'thwump' of my launcher discharging it's grenade music to my ears. The explosion was better, crippling most of them, and killing Cobb and another guy. I reloaded the launcher before sliding it back and drawing my 10mm. I quickly ducked out from behind the crate, quickly sighting and shooting the crippled Powder Gangers, dropping them in less than a clip. Easy…. I guess a headshot doesn't affect efficiency.

"Hey, thanks." Ringo said from behind me. "Not many people would help me like you did, but you went above and beyond. These are technically Crimson Caravan funds, but I think once I explain, they'll understand." He handed me some caps. Well….

"You know, I was doing this out of the kindness of my heart, but I'll keep the money." I drawled, slipping my best sarcastic in there as I deposited the caps in my slightly heavier money pouch.

"Well, that was a heck of a show! Almost like you didn't need us!" Sunny and Trudy walked up from the Prospector, Sunny clapping me on the shoulder.

"Well, I am a professional. I have standards." I shot back. Sunny grinned wide.

"Townsfolk don't even have a scratch on them. You just earned some respect." Trudy commented.

"Well, I think it's my time to leave then." I said, stretching. "Oh, give this dynamite back to Easy Pete. He wanted the ones I didn't use back. He'll get em all." I laughed as I handed the sticks over to Sunny, who carefully put them through a belt loop. "Maybe I'll come back through, maybe not. Primm's where I gotta go next."

"Primm? Just take the road south. Stray off and you deal with wildlife." Sunny advised as I ejected my 10mm's current clip and reloaded it, before reloading the pistol and chambering a round.

"Thanks." I said, waving as I started walking south. It was a long road ahead, but it was one I'd walk. I like challenges anyway.

 **The Rant**

 **Hmmm hmm hmm hmhm hm hmm hm hm hm hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…**

 **Oh, right, chapter.**


	6. Behind the Scenes: DLC, Updates, Company

So, I'm here again.

Now, I got a review about this, so I'm putting this out here now. I will be doing the DLC in order, meaning it'll go Dead Money, Honest Hearts, Old World Blues, and Lonesome Road. Mojave companions will stay in the Mojave. If you can't take em' in game, not takin 'em here.

Second, I do have something beyond Goodsprings. I'm currently finishing up Primm (My Kind of Town, for reference), and will be moving on to Nipton, and finally Novac after a brief stop at the Mojave Outpost, a certain ranch, and finding a certain wreck. Plus an irradiated hellhole. I completely forgot how tedious the first part of the game is, but once Novac is done, things start speeding up a little.

Finally, companions. They have quests. Here's how it'll go. The Courier will have two companions, plus either Rex or ED-E. It's this way so companion-companion dialogue is a thing (And why did Dogmeat not get his own companion slot in Fallout 4? Off topic), since in New Vegas, you're only allowed one human and one not-human (Meaning Rex/ED-E).

Just clearing things up on those fronts.

Dealing with possible psychosis.

The Pyro Jawsome


	7. Update

Hey there.

It's been a while since I've gone dark, and I suppose I should explain.

In between the eternal hell that is high school (cause that's where I am), having my own life, playing games, thinking up ideas for far down the line, etcetera, I have hit a monumental case of writer's block. I had a burst of creativity with Project RWBY, then it fizzled. I got stuck partway through another FNV:CR chapter. I haven't touched either Halo: The Compendium or GKND at all since their first drafts. I just haven't been in the mood to really write.

I mention this now because now that I've finished cleaning up one tab explosion I had on my computer, I think i'll try to get back into it while I clean up the other. I won't try to hold myself to a schedule, because I can never hit deadlines (they make the _best_ sounds as they zoom right by), but I will attempt to finish Act 4 before I finish high school. FNV is it's own story, so I have no such compunctions.

Another thing is that I have finally gotten an AO3 page of my own. I've already posted the first chapter of Project RWBY there, and I will continue to fill out the archive. I mostly have it in case something happens here and everything is gone. I'll still have master copies, but you would still like to read em' right?

To those who've been waiting, I apologize and to new readers confused, well, welcome. I don't make the best of impressions.

And my frickin enter key is stuck. Fuck.

The Pyro Jawsome


	8. Update the Second

He liveth, He dieth, He livith again. Not actually a quote, just thought it would be funny.

So I've gone quiet a while, save for updating my profile somewhat, and taking down both GKND and Halo: The Compendium. The reasons for that are twofold; one, life is kicking my ass to the curb hard, so I haven't really had time. Two, I've been having creative kicks that turn into a chapter or story that is promising, but I lose interest or run out of that spark of either genius or madness.

I would like to say this, though. If you've been waiting, thank you. I have most of a chapter of Courier's Road done, and I also have... some form of first chapter for RE: Project RWBY. However, unlike my previous posting habits, I think I'll go about building up an update buffer, or releasing more than one chapter at a time, because I don't feel too happy with my current system.

Luckily for me, I recently invested in a decent desktop setup, and the parts arrived last week, so I should be having a decent PC by the end of the year. This will either tank my writing performance even more or let it be reborn as something slightly less shitty than it is.

Who knows.

Pyro Jawsome


	9. Story-Wide Update

This is not a chapter, this only applies for when this is written, basically.

I'm going to lay out some things for this update, and ask some questions.

First off, I'm putting out a request: Story Art. If you want to draw up your own cover image for any of the stories, go ahead. I'm using stock images mostly (though the art for Courier's Road is a teaser image.), and I'd like something with more flavor to it. Hit me up if you wish to submit an image for evaluation.

Second, update scheduling. UNSC and RE: Project RWBY will keep their schedules, and I'm thinking I'll alternate Project RWBY and Fallout: New Vegas when I finally get to updating that. So it'd be UNSC every first, third, fifth Monday, New Vegas Friday that week, and RWBY on alternating weeks.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who reads my work, even if you don't follow, favorite or review. I do this for you, and I strive to improve myself constantly to deliver a better story to you. To those who review to offer criticism, you're awesome for helping me find my flaws and become a better writer. To those who follow and/or favorite, I am honored to know you think my work is worth it, and can not thank you enough.

Thank you. Insert witty parting line here.

The Pyro Jawsome.


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